


A Coyote's Lonely Night Out

by Krapfire



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Gen, Pack Street Fanverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-13 21:55:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21004778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krapfire/pseuds/Krapfire
Summary: This is just a short story about a lone coyote on a midnight stroll.





	A Coyote's Lonely Night Out

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Pack Street](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12141837) by [TGWeaver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TGWeaver/pseuds/TGWeaver). 

> Possible SPOILERS
> 
> This story takes place some time after Pack Street's 30th Chapter "Dogwhistle".  
It is recommended that the reader checks out the Pack Street Stories prior to reading this story because of possible SPOILERS.

Dressed in a two-piece suit, a lone coyote was hiking along a nature trail in Zootopia’s Rainforest District, a briefcase clutched in one hand, a flashlight in another.

Pausing to stretch his legs, something Jeanine had told him echoed back into his head.  _ Yo, Don. Could you just quit being mad at the world for a while? You should relax and have a nice night out. Go get laid or something. _ “Tch. Ridiculous,” he scoffed. “I’ll enjoy tonight, alright.”

Don peeled off his suit jacket, starting to feel the heat of the humid biome and his little exercise, even though sunset has passed hours ago. He popped the latches on his briefcase which had once held folders full of files back when business was good, before the savage conspiracy. Now though, it held none of that. He just pulled out a fish taco wrapped in foil. “Heh. How fuckin’ pathetic,” he uttered to himself, stashing his jacket and securing his briefcase to continue his trek.

Biting into the taco, he reminisced of moments when he and Dewey would walk around Pack Street, munching street food together while admiring the midnight sky’s glittery lights. Well, Dewey wasn’t here now, but at least he had food, and once he got to a nice viewpoint, he’ll have the sky as well. He’ll enjoy the night, even if he had to enjoy it alone.

When he finished his taco, he reached a sign protruding from the grassy ground.  _ The following are prohibited: alcoholic beverages, open flames without license, motor vehicles, littering. _ Upon reading the final line, Don spat out a sardonic laugh, whipping a foil ball at the sign. He pulled a small flask from his pants pocket, sipping from it as he headed further down the trail. “The world’s a sick joke,” Don muttered.

He and Dewey had always stayed on the right side of the law. But when all was said and done, the law hadn’t saved Dewey, his best friend and business partner, from a savage attack that had sent him to the hospital; the law hadn’t prevented the savage conspiracy from happening in the first place; the law hadn’t protected the mammal that Don had lashed at in his mad fury. He couldn’t forgive Bellwether for what she had done, but he certainly couldn’t forgive himself for what he had done, either. And when the boss decided what to do about his outburst, he will probably lose his job too. What was the point of following the law now?

At this moment, Don’s only goal was simple: enjoy the night. Maybe afterwards, he’ll be ready to face the world in all its shitty glory again.

He took a few more gulps from his flask before he wandered off the trail into the thick forestry. He had been to a nice clear viewpoint past these trees before. He just needed to find it again.

Eventually he reached where the trees stopped. Right beside a river was a clearing with the best view of the clear, cloudless sky, just as the forecasts had predicted. He sat down on a rocky ledge, dangling his bare feet just inches over the shallow water of the river bank.

He set his items down beside him, clicking off his flashlight to let the night’s natural lighting stand out more. Surrounded by stars scattered like polka dots, the full moon shone brightly, beaming its beauty into the river, flashing across its low waves and into Don’s eyes. Don peered down into the slow-moving current beneath him, noticing his own reflection bobbing alone in the water, and he found thoughts of his best friend reaching back into his mind.

_ I wish you could be here, Dewey _ , Don thinks to himself. _ Just sitting under the moon, talking and eating tacos together _ . But he didn’t come all the way out here just to stress about some bad memories.  _ Damn it, Don. You came out here to have some fun. Yeah, gotta enjoy the night. Enjoy the night. _

He plucked his flask off the ground and guzzled down the last of his drink. Dropping it back onto the ground, he stood up quickly, pointing his muzzle at the full moon, and he howled. He howled without holding back, and he kept howling, just a lone coyote, crying out to a world he despised.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't seen many stories with Don in it. I figured I'd try writing one, so here's a story that tries to get you to sympathize with a disreputable character that clawed the main character of the Pack Street Stories.
> 
> Please do leave a comment if you have the time.  
Thanks for reading.


End file.
